


Scarred

by LoadedRevolver



Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE
Genre: Blood, CZW - Freeform, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:19:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2468075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoadedRevolver/pseuds/LoadedRevolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds that in order to go forward, sometimes you have to look back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarred

Dean lay on the sofa, one arm sprawled out along the back, feet barely reaching the end. The laptop was balanced precariously on his lap, and the light from the screen flickered dimly in the room. And despite the fact that he had the volume down as low as he could get it, he could still hear every shout and yell as clearly as he had during the bloodbath that passed for a match.

_“Nick fuckin' Gage! Nick fuckin' Gage!”_

_“Fuck him up, Mox!”_

_“This is awesome.....this is awesome....”_

_“CZW! CZW!”_

He was so engrossed in the carnage he'd taken part in that he didn't hear the bedroom door open, the sound of a hinge creaking drowned out by the sound of he and Drake exchanging punches in the bed of a pick up truck. Dean watched as Drake shoved him and he tumbled off of the pick up truck, landing awkwardly on his knee. He'd almost bent double as the pain rocketed up his leg and lodged in the pit of his stomach, before yelling in agony.

_“SHIT!! FUCK!!”_

Dean winced at the sight, remembering how the joint had swollen up like a balloon and not being able to put any weight on his leg for damn near a week. The commentary and sounds of light tubes being shattered over bodies was the only sound for a few moments, before Dean inhaled deeply. 

He was there, the scent of musk and papaya hair conditioner making Dean smile. A large hand rested on Dean's shoulder, rubbing gently before Roman shimmied behind him and settled against the armrest.

Dean's; or rather Jon's face filled the screen of the laptop, blood pouring down it, eyes glazed with pain and adrenaline as he crawled back into the ring to try and stop Nick Gage. The once white wife beater he wore was now stained crimson, and he looked as if he could barely stand. Roman reached for Dean's hand now, fingers entwining as Gage flipped Dean upside down and dropped him head first to the ring in a vicious pile driver. 

Dean shivered as he clicked the tab shut, Roman's lips kissing a slow trail up his neck towards his ear. “Why did you do that to yourself?”, whispered Roman against the skin. “You didn't have to....” 

“I guess I didn't love myself enough back then.”, replied Dean. “Fuck knows, no-one else did.” Roman pulled Dean back towards him, tightened his arms in a fierce hug. “Just so you know....someone loves you now. Don't ever think that you're not loved.”

Then Roman kissed Dean, and he stopped thinking altogether.


End file.
